Fish Out Of Water

September 26, 2009
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My hands in my pocket,
I stare at the ground,
people constantly moving forward,
it’s a different side of town.

There’s litter on the pavement,
I’m dying to pick it up,
but who cares about the environment,
when you’re trying to live it up?

I wonder if they hear me,
the strangers passing by,
while they’re screaming empty promises,
and spitting out white lies.

As I’m pacing down the street,
I ask myself why,
I’ve brought myself to such a place,
where bad men lurk and hide.

There’s smokers sitting on the sidewalks,
couples here and there,
this place is just so foreign,
I’ve got to get out of here.

I’m like a fish out of water,
desperate to find a home,
the place where I can breathe,
and feel safe when I’m alone.

I take a right around the corner,
my insides stiffening up,
as I make my way across a mass of people,
who are entitled to say what they please,
and what’s what.

Someone taps me on the shoulders,
I shudder and shrug it off,
but they’re shouting,
“go go, get, you scared being here alone?”

I’ve got no choice but to listen,
I’ve got no choice but to run,
and I find myself gasping for air,
as I attempt to find my way back home.

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